Building buildings within the breaks of the thunderstorms

pouring concrete right onto rust the second you you don’t hear anymore thunder.

Crustaceous brown seepage spreading , infiltrating all the crevices and canyons.

Dividing parallel segments like heaven and earth,

into heaven and earth;

Dripping from the load bearing cathedrals right into my eyes.

and all the stained glass,

all that green, all over the pages.

Hung from strings and chains,

set idly behind a palm tree , like it wasn’t supposed to ever be there.

Leaning slightly to the left, like it wasn’t supposed to ever be there.

but missing any of the surrounding archipelagos entirely,

off the mark , in the best way possible.